


Silk and Steel

by katjedi



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friendship, Gen, Sparrowfeathers, Zinestiria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 04:13:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17297546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katjedi/pseuds/katjedi
Summary: “First rule of the Scattered Bones Fight Club,” Rose began, her expression solemn. “We don’ttalkabout the Scattered Bones Fight Club. Second rule: leave no corrupt officials or Shepherds alive—”“Righ—wait, what?!” Sorey flinched, incredulous, only to be met with bubbling laughter as Rose chanted, “Just kidding!”In retrospect, he supposed it all started with crabs.Or, in which Sorey and Rose engage in a friendly sparring match.





	Silk and Steel

**Author's Note:**

> My full piece for _Eternal Dream_ , the ToZ zine (with some minor edits). This was actually written sometime in Apr/May 2018, but hey, it still counts for the first posted fic of the new year, right? lol
> 
> This was a lot of fun and I'm grateful to be able to write more Sorey and Rose brotp moments for this project. Many thanks to the mods for all their hard work, and to everyone else who had supported us by ordering a copy!

* * *

   
  **~.*.~**

 

In retrospect, he supposed it all started with crabs.  
  
Well, crab _hellions_ , to be exact. Which was an actual thing and not just a regular crab—Sorey was almost proud to say he and Mikleo had easily figured out how to tell the two apart after the incident on Camelot bridge. Both creatures had pincers capable of deadlock grips and tended to gurgle out foam bubbles. But _regular_ crabs didn’t have more than eight legs and—as Dezel had assured them waspishly— _definitely_ didn’t come in over thirty-feet-tall. Neither were they usually dressed in what looked suspiciously like tattered pieces of civilian clothing, unless crab-people were another thing Lailah had conveniently decided not to mention.  
  
Sorey was glad, of course, that they’d managed to stop the crab hellions’ rampage through the port side town and had eventually purified them. But whatever tiny victories they’d achieved then didn’t seem quite enough for Rose. He was in the midst of helping Dezel tend to the injuries of a small squirrel (that they’d picked up after crossing paths with the Sparrowfeathers, on the way out of town) when she stomped up to him, fixing him with a scrutinizing glare.  
  
He stared up at her, startled, and then, perplexed. He’d just about managed to gently prompt Dezel to share a story about his friend Lafarga. But with Rose swooping down over them like a hawk now, Dezel had quickly reverted to his default aloofness, complete with monosyllabic grunts of disapproval.  
  
Sorey sighed inwardly—well, he’d tried, at least. He endured Rose’s scrutiny for two whole minutes, listening to the soft clatter of cutlery by the fireside where Felice and Talfryn were preparing supper, before finally working up the courage to break the awkward silence between them—  
  
“Um, Dezel?” Sorey began, hesitantly. “What’s Rose doing?”  
  
Rose only tutted, hands at her hips and her gaze still pinned squarely upon him.  
  
Dezel grunted, muttered something incomprehensible, and continued tending the squirrel. Its injured front leg was already bandaged neatly, but that didn’t stop the wind seraph from wrapping yet another unnecessary roll of bandage around it, if only so he could continue to avoid Rose’s gaze.  
  
Something shifted behind Rose, and Mikleo soon appeared at her side, fixing Sorey with an equally penetrating gaze.  
  
“Guys—” Sorey tried again, only to have Rose punch his shoulder. “O-ow! What was _that_ for?”  
  
“Hm,” Mikleo said, and then sighed—a sign that he’d arrived to a decision of sorts. “I hate to admit it, Rose, but it _is_ a bit worrisome. I regret not realising it sooner.”  
  
“Told ya!” Rose waved a hand. “And no worries! It’s still not too late to fix this.”  
  
“I honestly have _no_ idea what’s going on,” Sorey said helplessly. “What’s worrisome and needs fixing?”  
  
Rose and Mikleo leaned closer over him, their expressions ominous, their eyes glimmering with fire.  
  
“You,” they said. Before Sorey could protest, they yanked him to his feet and shepherded him away through the shrubbery.

*****

  
“Okay, here’s the thing, Sorey—you kind of, uh, suck,” Rose declared, hardly batting an eyelid. She’d led them into a clearing away from camp and beside a gurgling stream. Even though he’d feigned indifference in the earlier conversation, Dezel had dutifully trailed after them as well, the squirrel now chittering upon his shoulder.  
  
“What she means is,” Mikleo offered, to soften the blow, even as he tried to hide his smirk behind a hand, “you’ve been slacking off from training and it’s starting to show. Your unarmed combat has been sloppy lately.”  
  
“ _Sloppy_ is putting it mildly.” Rose threw out her arms for emphasis, frowning twice as hard now. “That hellion this morning really threw you off when you lost your sword. Without it, you were like a sitting duck waiting to be shanked!”  
  
“Come on, guys. It wasn’t that bad!” Sorey said, slightly wounded at these sudden accusations. “So I was caught off-guard this one time…”  
  
Rose and Mikleo only exchanged a look, unconvinced.  
  
“ _One_ time?” Mikleo echoed, folding his arms. “What about the incident with the werewolf hellion just days before?”  
  
“Or that scuffle with the bandits while on the road last week?” Rose added.  
  
Sorey winced, brushing a finger gingerly at the small cuts across his right cheek. The cuts were healing, but his skin still felt tender to touch—the werewolf hellion had scratched him up pretty badly after it’d bitten his sword arm. And well, one of the bandits _had_ gotten too close and very nearly gouged an eye out.  He didn’t like where this conversation was headed, but…  
  
All right, so maybe they both had a point.  
  
“Fine, so perhaps there were a couple of times I might not have dodged soon enough,” Sorey admitted. “But you guys covered for me then and it all turned out just fine, right?”  
  
Rose sighed. “That’s the problem! I mean, sure, you can count on us to keep an eye out  for each other during battles. But that doesn’t mean being careless and leaving yourself wide open!”  
  
“That werewolf hellion was a lot stronger than we had anticipated—even Edna and I got knocked around a bit,” Mikleo said. “But Sorey… Rose isn’t wrong either. While you have the advantage of seraphim to aid you in battles, there may be times where even we might not be able to fight alongside you, however much we wish to…” He trailed off, eyes downcast now.  
  
Sorey felt a twinge of guilt at Mikleo’s expression; there was truth in those words. The memory of his temporary resonance loss in Glaivend Basin—the helplessness, fear, and desperation a roiling dark cloud—still weighed heavily over them.  
  
“No, you’re both right,” he said. “I haven’t been as focused lately and look what that got me—bruises and bites that I could’ve easily avoided. And I could really learn a thing or two from you, Rose. You dive into battles with just a pair of daggers but still come out with little more than scrapes.”  
  
“Well, it’s one part Rose-awesomeness and two parts battle experience. But flattery will get you everywhere, so fret not! I know just how to help!” Rose said, clapping her hands together. At her signal, Eguille appeared beside her and tossed Sorey a short sparring stick. “Eguille’s been training me in close combat since I was a kid, so I’ve asked him to share some techniques that you might find useful.”  
  
“Not sure why Rose still thinks I’m one to offer pointers, considering how I got my rear handed to me by you at Rayfalke,” Eguille said coolly. “You’re a tough fighter, Mister Shepherd.”  
  
Sorey could only return an embarrassed grin. “That hadn’t really been a fight in your favour. I did have help from my friends—uh, the seraphim, after all.”  
  
“So the rumours are true then. Well, let’s start with the basics.” Eguille turned to Rose, who was twirling her sparring stick idly.  
  
“First rule of the Scattered Bones Fight Club,” Rose began, her expression solemn. “We _don’t_ talk about the Scattered Bones Fight Club. Second rule: leave no corrupt officials or Shepherds alive—”  
  
“Righ—wait, what?!” Sorey flinched, incredulous, only to be met with bubbling laughter as Rose chanted, “Just kidding!”  
  
Eguille coughed politely, and Rose attempted a contrite Cheshire grin, gesturing for him to continue.  
  
“Always with the teasing, boss,” Eguille chuckled. “Anyway, back to the lesson. First rule of combat: never underestimate your opponent, even inexperienced ones. Sometimes you can learn a lot just by assessing them—when you’re able to discern your opponents’ drive and limitations, you can anticipate their moves better.”  
  
Eguille nodded at Sorey, watching as he mimicked Rose’s stance. “You’ve witnessed Rose in battle a few times. Let’s see if you’re able to assess her moves and spar one-on-one against her without relying on your magic tricks.”  
  
“Okay, I think I got this,” Sorey said, holding up his sparring stick and balancing on his toes the way Eguille had shown him. “All right, hit me with all you got, Rose. I’m ready.”  
  
He wasn’t ready.  
  
Sorey had lunged forward, right arm pulled back for a jab with his stick, when he realised his first mistake—letting Rose leap out of his line of sight; she was already gone in the blink of an eye. He wondered, briefly then, if Dezel had gotten nosy somehow and cast Wind-step to assist her—but no, Rose _really_ was as quick as lightning.  
  
By the time he could react, Rose was already darting around him from the shadows. Sorey dodged, swinging his stick just in time to parry a blow—but not before he felt a sharp strike across the back of his shoulders. He gasped in surprise, stumbling forward.   
  
Rose landed lightly in the grass several metres behind him, keeping her guard up. She grinned. “Eguille’s right about you being a natural at rough-housing. Gotta work on your speed and footwork, though.”  
  
Sorey chuckled as he straightened up, raising his stick again. “I’ll keep that in mind.”  
  
“We Scattered Bones are more nimble than most fighters,” Eguille said. “Rose uses this to her full advantage. Think of your own advantage and strengths in battle, Sorey—use it as a counter-balance. You’re physically strong for your size, but agile enough to stay light on your feet. Keep your movements fluid like water, silent like silk; strike hard at your opponents, like steel. Try again.”  
  
Sorey exhaled slowly, taking a moment to reflect over Eguille’s words. Then, finding his centre, he dashed forward once again.  
  
This time, Rose rushed ahead to meet his attack directly, catching his stick with hers before jabbing her fist forward. Sorey blocked her flurry of punches and strikes, matching her speed step by step. Then, seeing an opening, he dove past her guard to knock the stick from her grip. But his victory was short-lived—with both hands free, Rose caught his outstretched arm, and using his own momentum against him, easily flipped him over.  
  
Sorey wheezed painfully as he hit the ground. His back was going to hate him in the morning.  
  
“Good disarming move,” Eguille said. Sorey wasn’t sure if it was praise directed at him or Rose, but praise was praise, right?  
  
“However, you let your guard down by assuming the fight was over when Rose lost her weapon; she easily worked that to her advantage instead.” Eguille held out a hand, helping Sorey to his feet. “So, second rule of combat: put the battle on your terms—you should always be _acting_ , not reacting.”  
  
“Battle on my terms…” Sorey repeated, readying himself once more. “Acting, not reacting.”  
  
Rose was already on the offense, charging straight at him. Sorey moved to meet her rush, and then side-stepped away easily. He caught the flicker of surprise in her expression, before it morphed into a smirk. He returned the grin, eyes bright with daring, a playful challenge, which Rose readily accepted; pivoting on her heels, she darted around him like a fierce whirlwind.  
  
Sorey deflected her blows, searching for an opening to disarm her again.   
  
_Acting, not reacting—_  
  
He struck out as Rose swung her stick, felt her punch connect instead—hard enough to bruise his wrist—and his grip slipped from his weapon. Still, he pressed forward, ignoring the pain. He dodged Rose’s kick, before lunging forward enough to ram his elbow against her guard, knocking her off-balance.  
  
_Yes!_ He grinned, unabashed at the unexpected win, and—  
  
_“Sorey, the water—!”_  
  
_“Tch, watch it, you fools!”_  
  
Mikleo and Dezel’s mental shouts were his only warning, before Sorey felt Rose seizing his shirt.  
  
“Gyeaaah!!” Rose yelped, tugging at Sorey as she flailed about. She slipped over the grassy bank, sending them both tumbling into the stream with a splash.  
 

*****

Sorey sat down beside Rose, handing her a mug of hot cocoa.   
  
“Thanks,” she said gratefully. They sat in comfortable silence by the fire as they sipped at their drinks, wrapped in blankets to keep the chill out.  
  
“Sorry about earlier,” Sorey said at length, his mug balanced carefully between his fingers. “I should’ve noticed how close we were to the stream before charging at you like that.”  
  
Rose narrowed her eyes and snorted, leaning in to nudge her shoulder playfully against his. “You’re too soft, Shepherd. All’s fair in combat if it keeps your hide safe. Besides, it’s not like that was the first time we’ve fallen into surging water together.”  
  
Sorey grinned sheepishly. “Still, I’m glad you weren’t seriously hurt or anything—o-ow!”  
  
This time, Rose elbowed him in the ribs, scowling hard. “Seriously? C’mon, it’ll take a hell of a lot more than _that_ to put me out of commission. Let’s just compromise and say we’re _both_ a force to be reckoned with.”  
  
“Fair enough.” Sorey let out a soft laugh. “Eguille did call it a draw, so I guess we both win this round, huh?”  
  
“Yup! And while it’s great to know we’re both capable of holding our own against each other in combat, I think I very much prefer us fighting on the same side.” Rose downed the last of her drink with relish before she yawned widely, leaning back to rest against the fallen log behind them.  
  
Sorey could feel the fatigue finally catching up to him just from watching her. His shoulders and back were already protesting the mistreatment from the day’s sparring session.  
  
“I’m really glad we’re on the same side too,” he said, stretching languidly to ease the kinks out of his sore back and settling down to rest beside his Squire.    
  
“And together, we’re the _bestest._ Vigilantes of the people, for truth and justice!” Rose declared sleepily, one arm raised in a victorious fist-pump.    
  
Sorey thought back to the look of fright and horror the townspeople had cast their way during their scuffle with the crab hellions that morning, and smiled wryly. He didn’t quite have the heart to tell Rose otherwise.

**  
***

“All right, kiddos—get your suppers while they’re piping hot… _Ah._ ”  
  
Eguille paused in his steps, balancing two bowls of stew and a basket of bread rolls on a tray. Sorey and Rose had both dozed off, their backs resting against the log as they curled close to the warmth of the fireplace.  
  
“Supper will have to wait till later then,” Eguille sighed, setting the tray down on a nearby tree stump so he could adjust the blankets over the two. He watched and listened—to the way the flames flickered a little brighter, to the sound of a stray breeze rustling the leaves of the canopy above—and glanced back at Rose and Sorey’s sleeping forms.  
  
“So the rumours are true, huh,” he murmured to no one in particular. He clasped his palms together over his chest, a show of gratitude.  
  
“This supper isn’t much, but I hope you’ll be able to share it with Rose and Sorey. Thank you for always watching over us.”  
  
The branches above bobbed lightly as if in response; while he’d never had any resonance for it, Eguille felt in that moment he could almost, _almost_ see the Shepherd’s seraphim beaming silently from the shadows.

 

**_—End—_ **

 


End file.
